Unbreakable - A Pokemon Story
by Adrayll
Summary: Set in the Sinnoh region and based ever-so-loosely on the events of Pokemon D/P/Pl, Unbreakable is a story About Azrael Quade, a trainer who, due to the death of his father, has come into his heritage as a trainer seven years late. He crosses the continent, learning, fighting and looking for meaning in the world of Pokemon
1. 1: Everything Starts Sometime

1: Everything Starts Sometime

Azrael woke to a pounding on his door. He groggily shouted in the general direction of his bedroom door.

"Gimmeaminute!" He stumbled out of bed and threw on a pair of pants from a pile of clothes on his floor. Groaning, he opened the door, eyes still bleary. Nero blasted by him, pacing furiously and gesturing wildly in the middle of Azrael's room.

"You _told_ me that we'd go today and that you'd be ready to go at eight, but it's only seven right now because I figured that you'd get impatient with me like you always do so you'd leave without me and then I'd have to go alone and I'd get lost and-"

"NERO." Nero stopped talking and took a massive breath. Azrael grabbed his friend's shoulders. "Breath. In," Nero breathed in, "out." Nero breathed out. "Better?" Nero nodded.

"So are you ready to go?" he asked, excitement dancing behind his eyes.

"Nero. I just. Got. Up. Go downstairs and give me a couple minutes. I'm mostly packed. My mom will probably have some breakfast you can mooch." Nero sheepishly ran a hand though his curly blonde hair.

"'Kay. Hurry up though!" Azrael shook his head, bemused, as Nero raced out of the room. Azrael slipped off the dirty pants he had thrown on for the sake of decency and put on the clean, heavy jeans he had set out the night before. He buttoned up a similarly heavy flannel shirt and rechecked the buckles on his pack. Everything was set. Finally. He shouldered the pack and turned his back on the room he didn't plan to see again.

Nero was perched on a chair at the kitchen table when Azrael came down the stairs. He was cheerily munching on a piece of toast. Azrael's mother was busy in the kitchen, packing a bag of food with a quiet intensity. King, her old, greying Mightyena was curled into a ball in front of the stove. It opened an eye quizzically at Azrael. When she hear him approach, she turned a around quickly.

"Oh. You're up."

"Nero made sure of that," he replied wryly. She smiled quietly, tucking a lock of grey-brown hair behind her ear.

"You're sure you want to go? There's no shame in not doing this. There's plenty of other honorable things to-"

"Mom. I'll be fine." She took a deep breath.

"I know, son. Make your father proud." Before Azrael could respond, she abruptly spun him around and stuffed the bag of food into his pack. "Go. I'm done crying over this." She declared with quiet determination.

"Love you mom." He said over his shoulder. She shoved him towards the door, refusing to look at him. Azrael gestured for Nero to follow. Nero grabbed his own pack from where it rested by the door and followed, waving at Azrael's mother as he left.

The pair had been walking quietly along the path out of town for a few minutes when Nero spoke up.

"Your mom seemed really sad to see you leaving."

"And your parents weren't?"

"They were, but, I mean, they were proud too. That I'd qualified this year and could start out right." Nero was thirteen. While he could technically have obtained a Trainer's licence any time past his tenth birthday, the spots in Professor Rowan's Trainer development program were limited every year. Nero had applied every year, but this had been the first year he had been accepted. Azrael had made the cut every single year since he had turned ten. He was seventeen- his _last_ year of eligibility.

"That's true. Mom will be fine. She's got King to keep her company after all." Azrael had always wanted to be a Pokémon trainer, ever since he had watched his father compete in league matches as a small child.

"Besides, the house is paid off now-" just saying the words made Azrael's heart feel lighter, "She'll have her full pension from Silph, and between that and my Dad's insurance payouts, she'll do alright without me working at the 'Mart."

"Just in time, too! Man, Az, you're going to be the oldest one there by _years_." Nero teased. "I bet they'll call you Grandpa Azrael." Azrael casually placed his foot in front of Nero's and shoved sideways, tripping the younger boy into the tall grass of the ditch. He smirked as Nero scowled, spitting out grass and jogging to catch up to Azrael.

It was just less than an hour's walk from town to the massive research facility of L. Rowan, Pokémon Professor. The facility itself was impressive- all glass and steel, it sat on top a large hill, giving the monolithic structure a commanding view of the surrounding countryside. An even larger fenced-in pasture behind the facility was full of Pokémon of every description.

"Is that a _Gyarados _in that pond?" Nero whispered quietly. Azrael nodded, smiling to himself. He had been coming out here for years, to stare longingly at the facility. The courtyard in front of the Lab was packed with a small crowd of people. Mostly families, all gathered around a single, visibly nervous child of eleven or twelve. Nero saw his own parents waving at the edge of the crowd. He looked at Azrael apologetically.

"Thanks for walking me here," Azrael said good-naturedly, "go to your parents, I'm sure they're full of last minute advice. See you at the ceremony."

"Thanks Az. See you then!" Nero ran off to his parents.

Azrael looked around the crowd. He did feel old. No. He refused to let anything ruin this day. This day, finally, he could throw off everything that had happened, everything that had stopped him from being here in years past. Today, he was a Pokémon Trainer.


	2. 2: Opening Ceremonies

2: Opening Ceremonies

Azrael stood, quietly, unsure what to do with himself amongst all of the happy, tearful families. He shoved his hands in his pockets and slowly meandered to the front of the crowd. A dark haired man in a lab coat stood near the doors to the Lab with a clipboard.

"Professor?" Azrael asked. The man glanced up from his clipboard.

"What? No." His gaze returned to the clipboard.

"I'd like to speak with-" The man sighed loudly. He looked back to Azrael.

"Look, the ceremony will be starting soon. You can't talk to the Professor. We can't delay the ceremony. I can't help you find your little brother or sister. If they're not here on time, they'll lose out in the pick. Nothing I can do."

"… I'm the candidate." Azrael said. The man's eyes narrowed. He looked back to the clipboard, lifting the first few pages.

"… Azrael Quade."

"Yes."

"What can I do for you?" The words were clearly being pulled from the man.

"I was wondering when we were starting."

"Five minutes." The man openly stared at Azrael. Azrael muttered his thanks and wandered off. He glanced over his shoulder. The man was still staring.

A hush fell through the crowd as the steel doors of the lab opened. Azrael had, wandering aimlessly ended up in the back of the crowd, though, with his height, he had no problem seeing. An old man with a thick mane of grey hair and a heavy moustache strode purposely through the doors. His face was sternly set and he walked with a slim cane that seemed more affectation than necessity. His heavy greatcoat billowed open in the wind of the heavy door closing behind him. When he spoke, his growl of a voice carried through the silent crowd, intense and severe.

"Welcome, Rowan Institute class of 1293," he paused as enthusiastic parents applauded. "You have been chosen for your tested aptitude in the skills that make trainers, who may be good, great. You are given a great privilege, becoming part of this institution, as you know, only eight applicants are chosen each year. Before, I mentioned you to be a class." He jabbed the air violently with his cane. "This is your classroom." He struck the ground. "This is crucible." He struck the wall of the Lab behind him. "This is your purpose. The Rowan institute is not a Gym, make no mistake. While in the process of becoming Pokémon trainers, it is true you will become strong. Do not forget the contract we have made- privilege, in return for knowledge." He raised a Pokédex from a pocket of his coat to above his head. "This is they symbol of knowledge throughout the world. You will carry it as a badge of this institute. Your travels and adventures will be recorded, through this, for the betterment of our world. Remember this. Your duty, your instruction from this Institution is that- to experience." Rowan's eyes scanned the crowd. Most of the children, young as they were, had their eyes at least in part glazed over. The speech, Azrael thought, as right and stirring as it was, was lost on most of them. In contrast, Azrael noticed a small boy at the front of the crowd. They boy's straight, white-blond hair was cropped short and the boy's eyes were riveted on Professor Rowan, glimmering with fervor and intelligence. He understands, Azrael thought approvingly.

The Professor resumed speaking. "Now," he said, his sombre expression breaking slightly as a twinkle crept into his eyes "I would like the trainers- for you _are_ trainers now- and only the trainers, to come with me." The chosen among the crowd leapt forward eagerly. Nero, Azrael could see, led the charge. Azrael took a deep breath and strode through the crowd. Whispers broke out immediately.

"Is he-"

"Practically a grown man, he-"

"What is-" Azrael steeled himself and looked straight ahead, refusing to think about the crowd. He was the last one through the doors and he sighed to himself as they closed behind him. The others were already crowded around a large stainless steel table. The Professor glanced once at Azrael- evaluating but not shocked, and returned his gaze to the crowd at large. He rapped his cane on the table.

"These are your identification as trainers, along with your Pokédexes. You are required to carry your identification at all times if you are to participate in battles, as well as use the services of a PokéCenter free of charge. _I_ require you carry your Pokédex at all times- it will do the work of recording on its own, though, of course, it can be used in the identification of a Pokémon one is unfamiliar with. Claim your indentification." He commanded. Azrael walked over to the table and picked up his identification card with trembling hands. It was official. He was here. "Follow." The Professor barked.

The crowd of applicants followed the Professor through a doorway into a large room. The center of the room was dominated by a massive, circular machine upon which sat dozens of pokéballs. The Professor spoke again.

"Each of those pokéballs contains a Pokémon that my staff and I have judged to be a suitable partner to a beginning trainer. Most of you will be familiar with these Pokémon. I have just one last thing to say. The bond between Pokémon and trainer is profound. This is the first bond you will make. Choose wisely."


	3. 3: Sharing a Quiet

**3: Sharing a Quiet**

Azrael approached the table along with the crowd. They were still too caught up in the realization of their dreams to have noticed Azrael's age. That didn't matter. The machine. The Pokémon. Every pokéball had in front of it a small display screen, which showed the Pokémon's species and a looping video of the specific Pokémon in the lab, performing moves or playing.

The Pokémon in front of Azrael was a Geodude, according to the video. No. Azrael thought. He started to slowly circle the machine, as all the others had started to do, pausing at each pokéball. Clefairy. No. Snover. No. Azrael didn't know what he was looking for. Every Pokémon he looked at, he felt… not nothing, but not… right. Magnemite. No. Turtwig. No.

Azrael paused in front of the next display. Shinx. Azrael remembered his father's favorite Pokémon. A Shinx, he had caught in the wild and trained doggedly until it at last, had evolved into a Luxio and then finally on to a Luxray. Azrael had been six when the creature had finally evolved for the second time. He couldn't remember seeing his father that happy before, or since. His father had had many Pokémon, from what Azrael could remember, but that Luxray had always been his favorite, and his pride. And now, with Father gone…

Azrael reached for the pokéball and then paused. He closed his eyes for a moment. He withdrew his hand and sighed heavily. It was tempting, to honor his father that way. But this day wasn't about the past. It was about the future. He couldn't become his father anymore than he could bring him back. Azrael moved on. Eevee. Tempting, but no. Piplup. No.

Azrael looked at the little girl in front of him. He had passed over the last few Pokémon so quickly he had caught up to the girl in front of him, who was looking at a blank screen in front of a pokéball. She turned to one of the research assistants at the side of the room.

"Why is this one blank?" She said.

"Oh, you don't want that one." The research assistant said offhandedly.

"Why would you put it out if no one would want it?" Azrael piped in, prompting a glare from the assistant and a look of surprise from the little girl.

" We may as well. That one's got an ugly temper. Won't let anyone touch it, let alone film it doing cute things for a video. But the professor insists we give the thing a chance, every year."

"Every year?" the girl asked.

"Yeah. No one's taken it yet, but we don't have anything else to do with the hateful little thing." He went back to his clipboard and the little girl moved on, her interest having waned in the mysterious pokéball.

"What Pokémon is it?" Azrael asked.

"Gligar." The assistant said without looking up. Gligar. What did Azrael know about Gligars? Gligars were ground-flying, but with lots of poison moves, and an oddly high number of critical moves if dealt with by a skilled trainer, due to its razor-like claws. Azrael tentatively picked up the pokéball. Gligar. He thought. Something felt right, something intangible that Azrael couldn't identify. He grasped the pokéball more firmly and stood back from the machine. He looked around, a warm confidence spreading through him.

"Who took that-" the assistant behind Azrael started to say, but then he looked at Azrael, the pokéball clutched tightly in his hand. He rolled his eyes.

"Of course you would. It'll serve you right when it doesn't listen to a word you say." Azrael barely heard him. The assistant sighed again. "Fine. If you're really serious, go through that door-" he pointed with a pencil to a steel door at the back of the room, "and get acquainted with each other. Once everyone's out there, the Professor will be out."

Azrael had been the first one to pick, so the yard was empty. Even so, Azrael strode to a far corner of the area, separated from the main yard by a fence of thick steel wire. He took a deep breath and depressed the button on the centre of the pokéball. The Gligar materialized in front of him. It fluttered its leathery wings and flew into the low branches of a nearby tree.

"Gliiii?"

"Uh… hi." Azrael started lamely. "I… uh. I…" However Azrael had fantasized about meeting his first Pokémon in the past, it flew out of his head in a second. The Gligar stared at him.

"I'm Azrael. I… Well, I picked you. To be my partner. Um."

"Glig?" the Gligar chirruped from the tree.

"I don't know why that guy back there said you were such a pain. You don't seem too-" Azrael had started to advance towards the tree and in response, the Gligar had hopped up several branches of the tree. "Fine." Azrael snapped. "Be that way." Azrael sat at the foot of the tree, pointedly not looking the the Gligar above him, that watched him with bright eyes.

"I don't know what I expected." He said, conversationally. "But I mean, you don't _seem_ so bad." Azrael sat quietly for a while. The yard was peaceful. He heard a rustling in the tree above him. Against every instinct, he refused to react to it.

"Do you like the quiet?" Azrael murmured, barely whispering. "I do too. Was it the lab then? Too much noise, too many Pokémon, too many people? I was in there for a few minutes and I could tell."

"Glig," he heard from above. Viciously supressing the excitement rising in his stomach, Azrael kept talking in the same quiet tone.

"I hope we'll get along. I have a feeling we will. We're going to do things, you know? I think it'll be happier for both of us if we get along. We're going to places. See, I'm going to be the best trainer in Sinnoh someday. I think you can help me. I'd like that." It was odd, to say these quiet wishes of his out loud. They sounded strange even to him, the quiet earnestness in his voice almost alien to his ears. Azrael heard one of the other trainers come into the yard, yelling happily at his new Pokémon. "Loud, isn't that one?" he asked, tilting his head back a fraction of an inch.

Azrael heard a rustle from above and with a flash of blue and purple, the Gligar landed in his lap.

"Garrr." It agreed contentedly. Slowly, cautiously, Azrael rested a hand on the creature's head. Its skin was warm, dry and leathery. It made a sort of rough purring sound as Azrael softly scratched between its long pointed ears. "Garrr…" it said happily.

"Gar," Azrael agreed, with wonder in his voice.


End file.
